


Bump it!

by offensiveagentpie



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Fist bumps, a tiny bit of angst on matt's part i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offensiveagentpie/pseuds/offensiveagentpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy teaches Matt the art of the fist bump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bump it!

**Author's Note:**

> Awhile back, [pluckyredhead](http://pluckyredhead.tumblr.com) left a great comment on [this Daredevil post](http://offensiveagentpie.tumblr.com/post/130745631885). It got my mind thinking and bam, I finally got around to writing this fic.

It happens, as most of their wackier friendship bonding moments do, after a night of drinks. They’ve returned to their dorm, Matt holding desperately onto Foggy’s arm as they stumble into the room. When they reach Matt’s bed, instead of depositing him gently onto the mattress, Foggy misses by a few inches and Matt lands hard on his ass on the floor.

“Shit!” Foggy bends to help him, but Matt’s a laughing mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies with a huff of laughter.

“No,” Foggy says with the sincerity of the drunk. “No, I feel bad. This is only fair,” he does a little spin and sits down with a painful sounding, harder than necessary thump. “There, bruised ass brothers.”

Matt snorts, which sets Foggy off laughing as well.

Eventually, they ease up a bit and Matt flops his head back against his mattress. “I still cannot believe you did ‘Particle Man’ twice for karaoke,” he mumbles.

“They will be talking of my prowess for years at that bar,” Foggy states.

“I’m not too sure ‘prowess’ is what they’ll call it.”

“Excuse you! It was great. In fact, this was just a total success of a night out…bump it!”

Matt’s not so drunk that he can’t sense Foggy moving next to him. But he is far enough gone that he can’t quite make out what it is his friend wants.

“What?”

“Bump it, man! A fist bump to celebrate a—shit, wait, you can’t even see my damn hand. It’s at your three o’clock. Like, inches away, tops.”

“Okay, but what exactly is it that you want me to do?”

“Dude…fist bump, like hit your fist on my fist?”

Alcohol buzzes in Matt’s head as he spins a bit to face Foggy. Lifting his right arm he keeps his hand loose, pulling his elbow back and gearing up for a swing. He’s just about ready to put some force behind it, getting ready to pull his fist tight at the last moment when Foggy darts forward and shoves his hand up and away.

“Woah there, slugger! I don’t want you to break my arm, Matty,” Foggy says around a laugh. “Here, lemme just…” his voice trails off, but his hands are still wrapped around Matt’s wrist. Foggy’s skin is soft and his hands are warm and gentle, and all of a sudden Matt’s made all too aware of how callused his are, how ready they were to automatically throw a punch, to harm…

Foggy’s hands mold his like clay. They curl his fingers down loosely and tuck his thumb over the knuckles of his first to fingers. He pats it when he’s finished. “Good, just stay like that.

The warmth from Foggy’s hand disappears for just a moment before it returns, his curled knuckles bumping against Matt’s own. He pulls slightly away, enough for Matt to feel a brush of fingers as Foggy uncurls his hand, making a hissing explosion sound as he does so.

“There ya go. Fist bump,” Foggy says, the gust of his breath tinged with alcohol. He slumps against Matt’s shoulder. “Now you know. And from now on, you can prompt them, buddy. Save me from giving you like, airport style landing directions to find my hand. I’ll meet you in the middle.”

Matt smiles and rests his cheek against Foggy’s hair. “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found [here on my tumblr](http://offensiveagentpie.tumblr.com/post/133081825975).


End file.
